


like you'll fall apart

by comawhite



Category: Neon Genesis Evangelion
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Series, Time Loop Theory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 14:15:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4438625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comawhite/pseuds/comawhite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaworu finally gives Shinji the happiness he desired, or at least, he hopes so.</p>
<p>Based off the time loop theory and following the manga ending, though having read the manga isn't required to understand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like you'll fall apart

Kaworu still wakes up afraid -- afraid that he is going through yet another cycle, another trial, another error. Watching Shinji's face contort with anguish and indecision as he crushes him to death, or worse, as Kaworu chooses self-destruction once more. A look outside the window, with cold winter light streaming through the curtains and a sheen of frost glimmering on the white landscape outside, tells him that either this is either a very pleasant dream or that yes, finally, he has succeeded. Knowing that the former is unlikey -- his dreams are, after all, usually soaked in his own blood and the image of himself sliding open a coffin door to be greeted by the cosmos -- he breathes a sigh of relief. How strange it is, to be met with walls and windows rather than the hollow landscape of the moon or the ruins of a hot, winterless earth, destroyed by the boy breathing softly next to him.

Shinji is still asleep, one headphone in his ear; the other had been in Kaworu's, playing Beethoven's 9th symphony on repeat as they slept next to each other. They did so often, almost every night now. They just slept, nothing more, often in each other's arms. Shinji is a fitful sleeper and now, so is Kaworu. The nightmares had never been as persistent as they are now that Kaworu has succeeded, oddly enough. Now that he is no longer cycling through time in real life, his subconscious mind does the timetravel for him. Strange.

He still can't really believe it.

Kaworu glances at the clock on the night stand next to him. It's a weekend, but the two of them like to keep their sleep schedules on track so they can wake up on time on school days. The first time Kaworu saw Shinji in class, his heart skipped a beat...it was so normal, too normal. Kaworu knew that Shinji would be transferring to their school in Tokyo, leaving Kensuke, Toji, and everything he knew behind. He seemed so afraid, having only just met Asuka briefly on the train to the city and knowing no one else. Kaworu and Shinji clicked immediately, as always, but this time with Shinji making the first move:

"Have I met you before?"

All Kaworu could do at the time was smile. One day, maybe, he could tell Shinji, if he ever found the right words. How does one explain to his boyfriend that they've met a thousand times, in timelines where the crucified "monuments" were metal-clad alien giants?

Shinji stirs. "Kaworu?" he murmurs, groggy. "You awake?"

"I am," he replies, that same small smile from the day of their first encounter (in this lifetime, anyway) spreading across his face. "Morning, sunshine."

"Morning," Shinji yawns. He sits up, stretches his arms towards the ceiling. "It's Sunday, right?"

"Indeed it is."

"Damn," Shinji grunts, "Guess we have to get that homework done tonight."

Kaworu chuckles. "Yeah, guess we better stop putting it off, huh? Well, we have all the time in the world."

Shinji raises an eyebrow. "You mean, we have the rest of today."

Kaworu nods. These normal, blissful days, without the end of the world looming over, are so slow to him. But wonderfully so.

"The rest of today. And then we're going to look at the stars tonight," he nods. Stargazing is something they have always done together, no matter which lifetime.

"Yes," Shinji agrees. "Let's do that."

They don't get out of bed for a while. Instead they lay swathed in blankets, with Kaworu laying his head on Shinji's chest. Usually it's the other way around, but sometimes Kaworu needs to hear that fragile heart beating to make sure everything is real. Shinji is his reality check, the warmth he seeks to stave off the cold of outer space. Shinji holds tight to him, listening to Beethoven and staring at the cieling.

"Kaworu?" Shinji whispers, his voice shaking just the slightest bit.

"Yes, Shinji?" Kaworu rolls over to look directly at the other boy, who is blinking hard. Is he holding back tears? Why?

"Kaworu, I..." his voice trails off, and he swallows hard. Kaworu can hear that fragile heart -- the one he had once said was like glass, and he meant it -- beating faster. "This is stupid, but..."

"It's not stupid," Kaworu intones, lifting up one hand to stroke Shinji's smooth cheek. A hot tear traces the edge of his pale fingertip. "I know it's not. Say what you need to say."

"I sometimes feel like," Shinji chokes down more tears, "like if I -- like if I let go of you, you'll...fall apart. Or disappear."

Kaworu searches for words with which to comfort him and finds none. Instead, he gives Shinji a kiss on the mouth. Part of him knows, somehow. Part of Shinji has muscle memory built on loss. Just as butterflies have migration routes coded into their DNA, Shinji's body comes programmed for mourning, a sense for tragedy to come coiled up in his chest. And there is nothing either of them can do about it.

"I understand," Kaworu murmurs as their mouths part.

"You understand?" Shinji echoes. "How?"

Kaworu inhales deeply. _Please let this be real, please don't let me wake up and find this was a dream._ He doesn't know who he is praying to, nor does he know what to say.

_One day I'll figure out how to tell him what we've been through,_ Kaworu tells himself. Somehow, he knows Shinji will believe it. After all, part of him already knows. The memory is already there, waiting to unfurl. It's only a matter of time.


End file.
